THE PASSION OF SUK KYI

By Claudia Dreifus

Published: January 7, 1996

On weekend afternoons in Rangoon, the 1991 Nobel Peace Prize-winner Daw Aung San Suu Kyi, 50, climbs up on a fence in front of her crumbling lake-side villa, takes a microphone in hand and speaks of democracy. Thousands of Burmese come in from all over the countryside to participate in her "free speech" meetings. They bring their children. They take tape recorders and video cameras. Though Suu Kyi explains such concepts as freedom of the press and the right to assembly in the most elegant Burmese, certain English phrases seep through: "social contract," "Martin Luther King," "it's not fair."

Very little is fair in Burma -- or Myanmar, as the ruling military junta, the State Law and Order Restoration Council, or Slorc, insists on calling Southeast Asia's second-largest nation. Indeed, for six years, Suu Kyi, the daughter of General Aung San, the founder of modern Burma, languished under house arrest. She could not leave the premises or make phone calls. She could rarely receive visitors. She was separated from her husband of tk years, the Tibetan scholar and British professor Michael Aris, and from their children Alexander, now 22, and Kim, now 18. Aris was only allowed to visit her five times during her incarceration; Alexander, who delivered Suu Kyi's Nobel acceptance speech for her, was only granted a visa into Burma last month. And just what was Suu Kyi's crime? Advocacy of democracy, of an open political system.

Just last month, the United Nations General Assembly condemned Burma-Myanmar for "continued violations of human rights . . . including killings of civilians . . . restrictions on freedom of expression . . . torture, forced labor, forced portering. . . . " And, of course, Suu Kyi has only been a free woman since July, when the Slorc succumbed to international pressure and released her. Since then, she and her political party, the National League for Democracy, or N.L.D., have been on a nonstop campaign to widen the margins of Burmese civic life.

Those free-speech meetings in front of her house are not quite legal. Nor are the press conferences she regularly holds. All are aimed at pushing the Slorc to the negotiating table. "They think it's possible for them to cling on forever," Suu Kyi told me in one of our three interviews at her home in November. The rooms are bare, dark and austere -- their owner cares little for things of the material world. "Not only is this untrue, as they could see by looking around the world, but it is also very un-Buddhist because we do not believe in permanence of any kind."

But the generals refuse to listen. They have moved forward with writing a constitution that would further consolidate their grip on the country. Suu Kyi and her party first asked the Slorc to democratize the constitutional drafting process and when they were ignored, publicly opposed it. This was a dangerous step. The gentlemen of the Slorc don't take kindly to being disputed.

As I left Suu Kyi's house after my last visit on November 24th, one of her top advisers saw me to the gate. "Watch your newspapers carefully in the next few weeks," he said with a wink. "Either we're going to make the authorities sit down and talk or," he added with astonishing good humor, "we'll all be back in the clink again."

Q: It seems I have come to Burma at a strange political moment. After six years of house arrest, you are free to move around, receive visitors -- yet the Slorc is as entrenched as ever. Am I correct? A: No, I wouldn't think of it as strange. I do think Burma is at a crossroads. This next year is when it will be decided how quickly we get to our goals. It could go faster depending on how everybody involved reacts to the situation. Everybody includes the international community as well as well as groups within Burma.

Q: But nothing seems to have changed in Burma since your release last summer. A: Well, the authorities have not changed in their official policies. But our National League for Democracy is certainly a lot more active. Before I was released there was nobody who could talk to a foreign journalist like yourself. Nobody could say, "These are the problems. This is what our people are suffering from." But now I can say it, and I do -- which means that others also say it.

Q: During the 1980's in Eastern Europe, people decided that they would act as though they were free -- even though they weren't. Is that your tactic? A: Well, I am acting as though I'm free. I do what I think I should, but to be free? What does that mean? If you want to look at it from the point of view of our inhibitions, our family responsibilities, our duties, no one is ever really free.

I think to be free is to be able to do what you think is right, and in that sense, I felt very free -- even under house arrest. Because it was my choice. I knew that I could leave any time. I just had to say, "I'm not going to do politics anymore." But it was my choice to be involved in the democracy movement. So I felt perfectly free.

Q: Is it true that during your house arrest, there were times when there wasn't money for food? A: Yes. So I ate less -- and I sold furniture from the house when I needed money to buy food. The Slorc offered to give me money, but of course I would not take it from them. So we discussed the matter and I thought, "Well, I could sell some of the furniture." They agreed to give me the proceeds. I later found out that they had not sold the furniture. They had simply warehoused it and given me money.

Q: Did you try to get these items back once you were freed? They had belonged to your parents. A: No, I didn't. But since the Slorc wanted to give it back, I paid them for it.